


It was a Stormy Night

by Daastan_Go



Category: Naruto
Genre: Drama, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Lust, Morbid, Non-Graphic Violence, Romance, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:36:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28700031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daastan_Go/pseuds/Daastan_Go
Summary: It was a stormy night; and, trapped inside a cave whilst the storm raged on outside, something changed between them . . .
Relationships: Karin & Uchiha Sasuke, Karin/Uchiha Sasuke, Orochimaru & Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Itachi & Uchiha Sasuke
Kudos: 2





	It was a Stormy Night

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Naruto is Kishimoto's property. I'm not making any money from this story. 
> 
> AN: The following is an excerpt from Vehemence.

# # # # # #

A flock of birds darted out over the water and skimmed the lake. He stood there under the sky when the sun was brightest. A warm hue burnt its way down the side of his cheek. It was a warm day, and leaves had lost their lustre, yellowed on the ground.

Upon crunching leaves, autumn's signs came. Slithering lights, bright and yellow, descended on waves, their undersides a flower green as they fell with a muted cadence on the shore. Mist was rising from earth's exhaling pores, and soon, the ground would be a thrall to its presence.

A young girl came out from between the forest’s maze that wore a weary bloom, her feet crushing the leaves, and he turned a little to look upon her countenance: she had arranged the red hair with a curious curl over the forehead today. She whiffed the air and wrinkled her small nose and pink freckles there came closer to appear as red dots on her cheeks.

"It's gettin' cold. We've got to make it back before the nightfall," she said in a chiming sort of voice and placed her hand on the tree behind her.

He turned his head away and gazed at the lake, its quietness was a song. Beyond its shores, trees stood with a sheen of moisture on their limbs. Soon, a dark would rise from their midst and spill over the lake to darken its shades. Then moon's lights would glide alongside the dark waters, sing in unspeaking tongues for the unheeding forest's ears.

This had been a strange mission: he was asked to deliver a message to a man at a small outpost. He went there with her when the sun was cold and the land's contours, dim. A drizzle hindered his vision, so he had drawn out his Sharingan to see better. The man was a fat one, and he looked at him strange. His frumpy apparel did not make him seem any more presentable.

Sasuke took the message from his pudgy hand—the man was a little eager to grasp his hand in his and stroke the skin in suggestive motions—and left before indifference drained from his face to be replaced by annoyance. The girl had been chirpy and matched his pace to make haste to the next meeting-point. The storm's anger only grew.

White sparks made the forest bright and bled dry the shades—colours in a scroll that diluted in rain. A wolf, lost and hungry in the forest, had stood in their path. It growled, unafraid of lightning's temper, and contracted its muzzle to snarl a challenge.

Then it lunged, feet propelling it forward to cover about five metres in a heartbeat, and she had hidden behind his back with a sudden whimper. He did not want to fell a hungry animal, so he pulled out his long Kunai and curled his fingers firmly around the hilt to use it to his advantage.

As soon as it came within an arm's reach, he slid out of the way and hit its head. The heavy hilt struck the wolf's snout. It whined and turned its head to the side and closed its eyes. Then it went skidding back across the muddy ground, unbalanced, its legs sliding and churning to find its footing.

The agility of its movements was surprising. In a beat, it righted itself and showed an angry countenance to him, its mouth a twisted curl around the teeth. It stalked to the left and then to the right, rumbling sounds coming from the throat's depth, but it dared not approach him in the red light that issued forth from his eyes.

Its skin trembled and rippled over the visible bumps of its ribcage, its fur muddy and matted. Seeing its pitiful condition, he knew it would never survive the storm; so he reached into his bag and threw a dried-up chunk of meat, which was wrapped in a cloth, at it. He had taken it with himself—just in the case the journey was prolonged.

Without any hesitation, the wolf approached the cloth, sniffed it, emitted a satisfied gruff. Then it picked it up delicately between its jaws and disappeared into the forest’s arms.

"Sasuke! Why did you do that? We've got nothing to eat, and the next outpost is miles away!" she spoke, her voice ringing above the ululations of forest and wind.

"It's fine, Karin—we'll find something in the forest," he said, with an air of finality, his face dark in the night. Then he walked ahead, with her floundering in his wake against the wind, to the caves up in the mountains. They had to take refuge for the night . . .

The cave's refuge was a cold one: Sasuke and Karin placed a large rock before the mouth to keep the water from pouring inside. He lit a fire to illuminate the area. Thankfully, he had gathered dry branches from the forest in the morning: sun was a warm companion then.

Now, fire crackled and flickered in the stray wind that dumped rain droplets (from a gap above the stone) in their direction, but it was bearable. Karin had wrung her hair out till slow drops fell from the long dark tips. Her cheeks were decorated with a cold blush. She pouted her peach-pink mouth and crawled her way to him. It was night and he was tired, so he did not protest.

"I win!" she ejaculated and pressed into him.

Sasuke frowned; she had made a bet that if they did not reach the second meeting-place before nightfall, he would give her what she wanted.

Then she arched her neck and whispered: "put it in. You said you'd do it if you lost—don't you turn twelve tonight?"

He did not think a storm would stop his journey; but, yes, he made a promise to her, and, yes, it was his birthday tonight. His brother had sent in a missive that he would come tomorrow—he wished that Itachi had come today . . .

Karin curled her arms about Sasuke's neck and pressed her body against his. He was a boy of twelve now, yet he had never been embroiled in passions that involved blooming youths. At this moment, he felt a pleasure—the strangest sort—fill his centre, roll down to the idle flesh between his thighs, swell in his loins.

He had never thought of mating before. He read of it, saw it depictured in Shunga in passion-colours, but he never thought he would be asked to perform the act. He wanted to ask his brother, but the mere thought filled him with shame . . . surely, his brother would understand that he chose to lose his virtue at an age so young? He sighed . . .

It was a stormy night, and his body had lost the strength in the struggle to make it here. Sweat came from his skin in response to her little hands' touches. He wanted to push her away, but it would be a terrible idea in the storm. He had promised, and, if she ran out in frustration, he would have to search for her; he did not have the heart, nor the patience, for such an arduous task. So he sat in silence and felt his loins burning in his trousers with a delicious warmth. It was a new feeling . . .

Karin strained her neck and pressed a little kiss to Sasuke's throat, and the blood there smote the skin with a visible mark. His heart thudded and sent a sinister rhythm through his veins, and his body responded with a silent bloom and sweat. Seeing his expressionless face, she grew bolder and planted open-mouthed, wet kisses along his soft jaw—he was a just boy, after all.

Her hand proceeded lower and rested on the inside of his thigh. His beautiful face had a calm and sweet expression—something she had never seen before. In the dance of fire’s light, she saw a glow deepen to red in his cheeks and nape. Curious of the anatomy between his legs, she stole a hesitant glance at his deep eyes and then cupped the thing, an innocent movement.

A sigh slipped from Sasuke's lips that caused his eyes to shut. His nape and brow were dotted with quivering sweat-drops; some crawled down his skin and drew a magnificent map over his changed countenance and flesh. Karin wore a curl of smile. She was an adolescent girl of one and six, not a woman—yet; and though she had lost her virtue for few coins, to claim him would be a dream come true!

She did not know how to . . . play with him, yet here he was, sitting with a calm disposition by her side, body sweat-riddled, flesh eager. She brushed her palm against that growing organ in rough strokes, and it pulsed and twitched in his trousers, demanding attention.

Sasuke's brow was strained, and in his countenance was the glimmer of boyish lust. Karin's own heart was a whipping fish. The place between her legs had grown moist, aching for . . . his flesh that grew in length and thickness. Impatient, she removed her clothes and stood with a body abloom with ruddiness—in the traversing shadow's shades cast by flames. When he heard the rustling, he watched her, confused, but did not stop her movements.

Karin's flesh was tender, coated with sweat, and trembling under his gaze. She had a nice flare to her thighs, but her breasts were like that of a child; between her tender-tinted thighs were two fleshes that hung beyond the soft clasp of swollen lips. Mucus hung from sparse hairs that adorned her genitals. A sudden thought breached his mind, and it was so primal that he felt himself grow thicker at the prospect of a thorough exploration of her channel.

Then Karin sat down and reached a hand towards Sasuke's idle one, grabbed hold of it, guided it to her genitals. He wanted to pull away, yet something in him prodded the baser-half to indulge his urges. His fingers glided a smooth path down towards the groove, and to his surprise, she grew more wet—more slick.

Swooning breaths came from her lips, her face lovely as it assumed the agony of a wild expression that he found most strange. Too curious, he plunged one finger inside, and the tightness made something dark thrum at the back of his head. A shade crossed his vision, Sharingan singing, a hushed falsetto, in the chorus that resounded and rebounded in his still-small body, which had yet to know of youth's heats.

Karin lay down on her stomach, and her curiously wet thighs came together to create a tender seam of her buttocks, to join the slick lips and hide the warm hole that awaited his response. Sasuke took off his shirt, which felt the heaviest it had ever felt, took out his escalating arousal, and broached, with the hard flesh, her cask of pleasures, slowly, slowly, and drew a string of arousal with a backstroke.

And again he pushed in, pumped fiercely, and drew out to enjoy the pull of her tight channel against his crown. He pressed his breast against her back, her hair abrading the skin, and his muscles collapsed into hers. Joined deeply, he rode her hard, his mind contracted to a single dot and everything collapsed away—vibrations running through this loam-house made of flesh and heated by spirit.

Her gasps were a music to his ears; her sheath, a dark place that had stripped him of his thoughts and of things back home. His hips rolled, pumping full into the depths of her, setting the skin of her back and buttocks to rippling—it was bliss, nothing but the sweetest bliss, and it had whittled a piece of his spirit down to a toy for his flesh's hands!

Karin's laboured breaths sent the dirt on the ground puffing up, her fingers trembling beneath his. From overhead, sharp tips of dried-up tree-roots let loose streamlets that fell down and hit against the skin burning—blood boiling in the venous web, muscle coils pulsing underneath the organic cover stretched to its limit. Bodies trembled, danced, writhed with a rhythm they knew by design.

The press of his breast and tingling skin against hers, and she felt that her world had just begun and changed, starting from inside that place from where the vibrations originated. They scaled her flesh and wormed deep into her bones and rattled them to make muted music notes. She . . . loved him. It was love. This was love! Her body sung, in love!

Colours swept through dust particles, pretty little fireflies, gliding and glimpsing right before her hazy eyes, illuminations to entice her in the flood of fire's light. His lips at her nape burnt raw, a cool fire that sizzled her flesh inside out.

He grew thicker, hotter, eager to expel inside her; his soul and flesh had come together in his breast to create delicate strings; and once plucked, they produced a wondrous tremolo; and it poured forth from the tip to flood her estuary . . . he was spent, and his body moulded into hers after the release . . .

Then, as the feeling of frenzy mellowed and drained from Sasuke's body, he backed away, breathing harsh and ragged, and watched a vulgar mixture of arousal and semen flow from the slit between her thighs. Left streaks of white across her buttocks he had, too. There were these little vibrations in the flesh that rose from his thighs again at the sight of his own primal artistry, and he gulped. She rolled onto her back, face red and mouth smiling, and opened her thighs wide to allow him to enter her again, and he was so charmed by tunes from his loins and lusts that he lay upon her and entered the dark loam—yet again.

When morning came, Sasuke's demeanour had changed, much to her dismay. The storm inside him had faded, too. Outside, a light was sent spilling from between the two peaks. Ground was covered in wet leaves, soggy. So they left off, Karin in Sasuke's wake, silent, their destination another meeting-place . . .

# # # # # #

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> EN: Shunga (literal, spring pictures), a Japanese term for erotic art in woodblock prints.


End file.
